


He Was His Future

by spotty_lion



Series: Final Fantasy Shenanigans [29]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: -Phil Collins voice- YOU'LL BE IN MY HEART.............., Character Study, Grief/Mourning, Hrothgar Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), M/M, Urianger isn't very good at feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:27:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28193952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spotty_lion/pseuds/spotty_lion
Summary: Laughter had not often made his heart ache so.
Relationships: Urianger Augurelt/Moenbryda Wilfsunnwyn (mentioned), Urianger Augurelt/Warrior of Light
Series: Final Fantasy Shenanigans [29]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1135331
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	He Was His Future

Often, Urianger was awake in the pallid glow of the moon. Even before his shoulders were heavy and sore with the weight of all his misgivings, the moon was his constant companion, his loyal partner, his devoted friend. 

Funny it was then that she who shared the moon’s name was not with him anymore. 

A cruel jest. 

Laughter had not often made his heart ache so. 

It had been getting better in recent times.  _ He _ had been getting better. 

He had been changing into someone he could look at in the mirror. 

His reflection had been losing the cold sting of his mistakes, his failings, his lies and secrets. He had been able to feel as though he was moving on, as though he was  _ healing _ . 

But here he was. 

Up with the moon again. 

His mind filled with thoughts of her, even though another lay at his side. 

His eyes drifted over to he who took the space next to him in bed. Took in his soft fur — his hands no stranger to its feel. Took in his scarred muzzle and eye — injuries that his own fingertips had grazed over and healed. Took in his kind face — the kindest in all of Eorzea, he was certain — though it rested in sleep. 

His Jack. 

Kind, patient, gentle Jack. 

The man who he was so proud to call his boyfriend, his fiancé. 

The man who had saved the world a thousand times.

And had done the same for his own undeserving self twice that. 

The man who had held his hand when he needed it the most.

The man who had helped him to heal. 

And all his effort for nothing. For here Urianger was; injured again. 

He needed to leave. 

Though his chest burned and his throat cracked to do so, he left the bed, left Jack. 

He would return, he always did, never able to be apart from his beloved for long. Too accustomed was he to the warmth that always came with being by Jack’s side, to the bright feeling of being  _ seen _ and  _ understood _ that came with being in Jack’s gaze. 

But for now, it was too much. Too much knowing that he was hurting his Jack without a weapon in his grip. 

Though he loved Jack more than even he, in all his boundless knowledge, could fathom, still his heart ached to remember her. 

His sweet Moenbryda. 

Perhaps the grief of her loss would always follow him. Others would say it was normal, that it was okay, that he was allowed to mourn her. But they didn’t understand. 

Hand in hand with his grief was the guilt. 

Guilt that he still wished he could stand with Moenbryda, that their hearts would beat in time with each other. 

Even though his heart was already dancing with Jack’s. 

It felt unfaithful.

Perhaps he was being foolish, a quiet voice said in the back of his mind. 

But it could not be heard over the rest of the cries that piled on top of each other as they sang and jeered at him and his fragile heart. 

He should have left it in the past by now, as if her memory was little more than discarded cloth. But instead, he held that memory close to his chest, a precious artefact to be nurtured and treasured, lest it were to break.

He went to the kitchen, to the familiar hands of the kettle and the teacup.

To the same rhythm of the boiling did his mind race. Filled with memories of her. The things she would do. The words she would say. The laugh that would bellow from her chest. 

The trill of the kettle made him wince, hoping it would not wake Jack and Kochan. 

His heart ached as he sat down in the armchair by the fireplace, a full teacup in his hands. He watched the sooty logs, burnt black from the evening’s fire, as if a flame still danced there. 

He remembered dancing with her.

He remembered a lot of things.

A lot of things that he missed dreadfully. 

As he raised his cup to his lips, his eye caught the sight of the engagement ring on his finger. 

It stirred him. 

Moenbryda would always be important to him, but she could no longer change his life, though it pained him to admit it. He could continue to love her without being unfaithful to Jack, a fact that Jack himself had done his best to instil in him. 

He needed to look ahead, to the future. For if Jack was by his side, then it was a bright one indeed. 

When he returned to his bed, to the loving arms of his Hrothgar, it was with a clear head and a gentle smile. 


End file.
